My beloved mum died on the 18th January 2002. She died sixteen months after my dad. Just like the romantic and devoted wife she always was, she went to meet him on their 55th wedding anniversary.
I always remember my mum as being very capable yet she wasn’t a “power woman”. She was feminine, motherly, gentle and wise.
She was a faithful daughter of the Lord. She taught me to trust God from a very young age. She never rammed any idea or principle down my throat. She merely walked the talk which I knew was the right way to follow.
Proverbs 31: 25 "She is clothed with strength and dignity and has no fear for the future."
Once we children had all left home, she went out to work again. Still she had no help with the housework; she cleaned the house before driving the 30 kms / 19 miles to work. (Far better than I am. I don’t go out to work nor do I clean my own house!) My mum had an arrangement with the local bank: relieving or single clerks stayed with her. She housed and fed them royally as if they were her own children.
Proverbs 31: 27 "She carefully watches over all that goes on in her household and does not have to bear the consequences of laziness"
She also knitted, crocheted, and did all manner of embroidery. I have dozens of tray clothes and centre pieces that she embroidered or cross-stitched. I have a pile of table clothes, bedspreads, table runners that she crocheted. I grew up with my mum’s handiwork displayed and used all over our home.
My mum dressed beautifully, she was always well-groomed. She looked like the Queen of England.
Proverbs 31: 22 "She quilts her own bedspreads. She dresses like royalty in gown of finest cloth."
My mum also loved to write. She started a journal in 1947 shortly after she married my dad and continued to journal until a few weeks before her death. The last entry was dated 1 January 2002. My sister inherited these very personal thoughts. Although my mum submitted many stories (she loved to write fiction) apart from half a dozen short stories, which were published in magazines, her writing career never got off the ground. I firmly believe it was because no-one ever took this zeal of hers seriously. I know that I inherited my passion for the written word from my darling mum.
I also inherited quite a few of her special handmade creations which I remember from my childhood. The three embroidered centres photographed above are my favourites. My mum knew I was crazy about cats (she should see me now: fifty-something with eight cats in and around my home!) so she embroidered these beautiful cloths for the dressing table in the bedroom my sister and I shared.
A few months ago I took them to a framing boutique in the city and had them preserved for posterity. This exceptional piece of art is displayed on the wall in the music room/reading section of my office.
My mum left me many special subtle legacies. She lives on in my memory.